Chapter 5
Ellie
At eighteen, if anyone would have told me that I’d see Jamie Patterson again, I would have told them they had no idea what they were talking about. Seeing Jamie again was like seeing a unicorn. It would have been a one-in-a-million chance. I had no idea where he went or what he was doing. One minute we were in love, the next he was gone as if he never existed.
I’m not stupid, I knew he wanted to go to the NHL. It had been his dream for as long as I can remember. Him and his dad would watch games together on the couch, and they never missed a Storm home game.
Jamie would drag me along with them and I’d watch his face light up every time the team made a goal.
When his dad died, his drive to play grew. He’d practice day and night. I saw less and less of him, until eventually, I stopped seeing him at all. He wasn’t the Jamie I knew anymore. He was someone I didn’t recognize, but I loved him. I thought I was going to marry him. Imagine my shock when he fell off the face of the earth. He could have at least had the decency to break up with me to my face. Lainey threatened to hunt him down and chop off his dick on numerous occasions. She couldn’t stand seeing me so depressed. It took months for me to finally feel like myself again.
I vowed to never watch hockey again in fear that I’d one day see Jamie on TV and completely lose it again. I had no idea if he went off to college or if he ended up in the NHL like he’d always dreamt of. I told Lainey and Holland to keep their mouths shut if they ever found out anything about Jamie and what he was doing. Of course, my idiot brother can’t keep a secret and let it slip that Jamie was drafted to the Storm. That was the last time I thought about Jamie Patterson.
When I got to college, I focused on my classes and my friends, living my life and having fun like a college girl is supposed to. Yet, every time a guy would flirt with me or try to get intimate, I’d freeze up. I’d think about Jamie and how much I loved him. How badly he hurt me. I did end up dating a guy for a while though.
Ty was an asshole, but he was attractive, and it pissed Holland off that I was with him. We only dated for a few months before he cheated on me with the next best thing. I honestly think he was only with me because he wanted to piss off my brother, so it worked for both of us. I wasn’t heartbroken over the loss of Ty Manning. Not like I was over Jamie.
Running my hands through my hair, I take a deep, shaking breath and press the Facetime button on my phone. It rings twice before Lainey’s face lights up my screen.
“Bitch, you never called me last night. I thought you died,” she squeals.
Rolling my eyes, I say, “You’re so dramatic. I’m alive, I just… got distracted.”
Lainey’s eyes narrow, and her expression turns suspicious.
“What’s wrong? Why do you look like that?” she demands.
“What do you mean? Like what?” I ask, feigning innocence.
“Like you’ve seen the ghost of Christmas past. What happened?” How does she know everything? I seriously don’t get how she can tell that by just looking at me. I mean, we have known each other since we were kids, but still. She can read people better than anyone I’ve ever met.
“Nothing happened,” I lie.
“Ellie Morgan Monroe. Tell me what’s going on.”
I deflate, lying back on my pillow and deciding it’s better to tell her now than her showing up and finding out that way.
“He’s here,” I say ominously, not wanting to say his name out loud, as if it’ll change the fact that he’s here. Lainey moves closer to the phone, looking intrigued.
“Who’s there?” I cringe inwardly, knowing what her reaction is going to be.
“Jamie…”
Her eyes practically bug out of her head in shock. I’m betting that’s the last name she thought I’d say.
“Jamie Patterson? Like, from high school?” she asks, and I nod.
“That would be the one.”
“What the fuck is he doing there?” Shrugging, I play with the ends of my hair, a nervous habit I’ve had for years. That’s one of the reasons I kept it so short most of my life. I’ve let it grow out recently, not only because I actually like the way it looks, but because I haven’t had the time to go to the salon.
“He’s the new hockey coach. But that’s not all,” I pause, taking in a breath before continuing. “We’re housemates.”
“You’re WHAT?” she yells into the camera. Yep, there’s the reaction I was expecting.
“Shhh!” I shush her, looking around my room as if Jamie’s going to pop in any second. “He could hear you!”
“What happened?” I hear a male voice ask before my brothers face pops into view next to Lainey’s.
“Jamie’s there. They’re living together,” she explains.
I watch as Holland’s face turns red and turn the volume down on my phone, hoping it’s low enough so Jamie can’t hear what he’s about to say.
“Jamie fucking Patterson?! What the hell do you mean you’re living together?!” Holland seethes. He’s hated him ever since we broke up, naturally.
“It’s not like that!” I defend quickly. “You know how Dean Ashby promised housing if I took the job? Well, apparently there was a mix up and there was only one available. Apparently, Ashby hired Jamie around the same time, and he obviously offered him a place to stay too.”
Lainey and Holland share a disgusted glance before looking back at the screen.
“Tell Ashby that he needs to figure something out ASAP, or he’ll be hearing from me,” Holland threatens. Holland’s always been protective, and he’s literally always had my back. He’d take the fall for things I did when we were kids just so our dad would yell at him more than me. He’s warded off stupid boys since we were teens, and when I started dating Jamie, he threatened to kill him if he hurt me. Obviously, Jamie is still alive so that was an idle threat, but he meant well by it.
My father never conducted his business dealings around my mother and I, but he brought Holland in at a young age. I knew whatever was going on was shady, but I learned never to ask questions. Holland learned how to defend himself real quick, and he grew up unafraid of the world and what it could do to him.
Granted, my father never exactly told Holland that what he was doing was illegal, so Holland only thought he was following in dad’s footsteps. He was devastated when he found out dad had been lying to him about everything since the beginning.
I know for a fact Holland would show up here and threaten everyone involved in this misunderstanding, but it’s not necessary.
“I did. He is. He assured me he’d keep an eye out for a new location, and he’d let me know as soon as one becomes available. In the meantime, I’m stuck with—”
“A lying, conniving pussy who left you without a fucking word and broke your heart,” Holland spits, his tone hot like fire. He’s pissed, and rightfully so. So am I.
“Yeah…” is all I can say. This whole situation sucks, but at this point it’s out of my hands. I can’t do anything about it, other than leave. That’s not happening though. I’m not letting Jamie take this away from me. I’m just going to ignore him and pretend like he’s not even here. It shouldn’t be hard, right? Our schedules are probably so different, and this house is so big we’ll most likely never see each other. I just need to figure out his routine and avoid being in the same vicinity as him.
The next morning, I make my coffee and sit at the massive island in the middle of the kitchen while scrolling through videos of my friends from my theatre company back in the city. I’ve been keeping Freddie posted on what’s been happening here, and he’s told me several times how much of a ‘lucky bitch’ I am for being roommates with a hot hockey player.
He's not quite understanding the fact that this particular hockey player broke my heart.
My first class is today, and I’m starting to feel really nervous. I’m not sure if it’s imposter syndrome or what, but I’m feeling highly underqualified to even be here right now. I mean, I know what I’m talking about, and I have the experience. What I don’t have is teaching experience or director experience. However, they say the best way to learn is to do, so here I am. Taking a deep breath in, I take the last sip of my coffee and watch one more video before stuffing my things in my bag and hopping off the chair.
The alarm I set on my phone to remind me to grab food goes off and as I attempt to turn the damn thing off, I run into a hard body, causing me to stumble back. When I regain my composure, Jamie is staring at me like I’m some new species of animal he’s never seen before. My heart begins to race, and I have to mentally remind myself to breathe because I think I’ve forgotten how. His brown hair curls under the hat he’s put on, backwards might I add. His sweats and black t-shirt make his muscles pop, and my eyes land on the one spot they shouldn’t. I look away quickly, hoping he didn’t catch me staring at his dick.
“Watch where you’re going,” I say, knowing full well that I ran into him because I was trying to turn off my stupid alarm. He knows it too because a smirk grows on his face.
“You ran into me, Sweetheart.” My heart stutters at the pet name. He doesn’t get to do that. He doesn’t get to try to flirt and call me cute names and act as if everything is fine.
It’s not fine, and I won’t pretend it is. I know that might be petty, but I don’t care. What he did was way worse.
“Why are you even here?” I ask accusingly.
“Gotta get to work,” he shrugs, walking past me and into the kitchen, heading directly to the fridge. Opening it, he pulls out a protein shake, and I watch as his bicep flexes as he shakes it. God, when did he get so buff? All that time in the gym really paid off, I guess.
“Work? You have practice now? It’s nine in the morning.”
He nods, grabbing a gym bag from off the floor. “Yup. Early morning practices are the best. Gotta get the blood pumping and shit,” he explains, his velvety smooth voice like a drug. He always had a deep voice, and now it’s more manly. It’s really annoying.
“Is this going to be like, a normal thing?” I query. His brows furrow as he takes a sip of his shake, never breaking eye contact.
“Why? You wanna keep tabs on me?”
“No, I want to avoid having to see you as much as possible,” I reply, but I don’t think I even believe that.
He chuckles, the sound bringing me back to when we were sixteen and laughing together about some video we’d just watched. My heart aches at the thought.
“Whatever you say, sweetheart.” He makes his way to the front door, grabbing a hockey stick that had been leaning against the wall.
“Don’t call me that,” I call after him. He turns around with a teasing smile.
“What should I call you then?”
“Nothing.”